When I lie down, I ask, ‘When will I get up?’ But the evening is long, and I’m exhausted from tossing about until dawn.
You say that night is day. Light has nearly become darkness.
At night God pierces my bones. My body doesn’t rest.
I fade away like a lengthening shadow. I have been shaken off like a grasshopper.
My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning.
I am worn out from my groaning. My eyes flood my bed every night. I soak my couch with tears.
(You keep my eyelids open.) I am so upset that I cannot speak.
“You suffering, comfortless, storm-ravaged city! I will rebuild your city with precious stones. I will reset your foundations with sapphires.
In the morning you’ll say, “If only it were evening!” And in the evening you’ll say, “If only it were morning!” You’ll talk this way because of the things that will terrify you and because of the things you’ll see.